


Remembering

by kii_babe



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Happy Ending, Kokichi Doesn't Like Emotions, M/M, Some Characters Only Briefly Mentioned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:42:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21771184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kii_babe/pseuds/kii_babe
Summary: "Kiibo is dead."
Relationships: K1-B0/Oma Kokichi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	Remembering

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise! Instead of updating the fic I haven't even finished yet I started another... because I have no self control!
> 
> This is a plot I've had in mind forever. I hope I'll do it justice.

The sound of rainfall was deafening against the earth, and Kiibo stared upon the scene with a melancholic look in his eyes. A news reporter on the TV spoke clinically about the death of a high school girl, and once the story had ended, Kiibo turned to the professor, perched across the room at his desk.  
  
"Professor," He began, quietly, "What do you suppose would happen if I disappeared?"  
  
The professor looked up at his creation, wide-eyed... and wholly unsure how to answer the question.

* * *

  
"Kiibo is dead."  
  
Shuichi's voice was level while he spoke to Kokichi, small box in hand. He'd pulled him aside from the rest of their classmates to converse alone.  
  
Kokichi's wide eyes were fleeting, then he quickly dissolved into laughter. What a cruel prank Shuichi was pulling on him! "Puh- _lease_ , robots can't die! Don't tell such an obvious lie to the king of liars." Kokichi was grinning at the deviousness of it all, to allege such a thing. Shuichi must be growing bold.  
  
But his expression never shifted.  
  
Kokichi's smile faltered the tiniest bit. He nudged the other boy in the shoulder, as if it might force him to get to the punchline. "I saw him yesterday afternoon! I went to bother him for a few hours, and he was totally fine. C'mon."  
  
The blue-haired boy only began to elaborate after glancing at the box he was holding. "It probably happened not long after that, then. I went to talk with him this morning, and the professor told me Kiibo's hard drive had been corrupted. He's inoperable, I saw it for myself."  
  
"Then he's not dead!" Kokichi reasoned, "He'll get all fixed and junk!"  
  
But Shuichi shook his head. "I thought so, too. But in the professor's own words, he may as well be. His memory will be severely damaged if he is ever rebuilt. Kiibo was a one of a kind piece of technology, it's not as simple as replacing a few parts. He's nigh irreparable."  
  
Kokichi fell silent at this news, unsure what to make of it. He liked Kiibo, sure-- he was fun to mess with and hang around. But why couldn't Shuichi break this to the entire class at once? "If you're not lying, then why just me, huh? It's not like we were any closer than anyone else."  
  
Shuichi held the box out for Kokichi to take. "That was my plan, but I wanted to give this to you first." It was no larger than a shoebox, previously taped up but the adhesive was loose and old, and had been cut open.  
  
Kokichi accepted it with a raised eyebrow. "Oh? And what's so special about this?"  
  
"Well, Professor Iidabashi said that it was probably best left in the hands of Kiibo's classmates. I leafed through it, it's a lot of photos and scattered journal entries..."  
  
Kokichi tried to thrust the box of memories back into Shuichi's hands. "I don't want to see his schmaltzy crap! You keep it!"  
  
Shuichi pushed it back, insisting. "There are also letters addressed to you!"  
  
The shorter boy halted-- caught off guard. He stood stockstill, with his eyes trained on the box still in his hands. "W... What?"  
  
"One of them is sealed. The ones that aren't seem half unfinished, but I didn't snoop too much. Still, I think you should take it."  
  
Kokichi didn't speak for much longer than his comfort zone would allow. Letters, to him? What would Kiibo have to say to him that he had to write down? Without dwelling on it any longer, the crack in his facade was quickly sealed, and he grinned falsely up at Shuichi. "Well, gee, thanks! I gotta go throw this away now. Or not. Better check all the trash cans if you wanna find out!"  
  
And like that, Kokichi had escaped the class, the hallway, the situation, and the world, looking at the box in his hands all the while.  
  
Safely closed away in his dorm room, Kokichi sat the box on his side table. He didn't open it, and had zero intention to. So what if there were letters for him in this stupid thing?  
  
Kiibo was dead.  
  
How could he respond?  
  
He blinked at the ceiling. The clock on the wall kept a steady rhythm, ticking down and insuring Kokichi couldn't drown himself in silence. Instead, he stared. The blank white space laid out before him acted as a perfect canvas for his mind to fill in the gaps. Flashes of moments frozen in time. White hair, blue eyes, an offended or quizzical expression... Kokichi wouldn't ever get to see those things again.  
  
Was he sad about it? No, no. Sad was not the word. He tried to grasp for the right one. Kokichi blinked. He listened to the ticking, mocking him for not being able to hold onto a word. He rolled over.  
  
Now violet eyes were locked on that box. Kiibo's box. A box of memories, of his time with their peers. It was the last of that goody-two-shoes little robot that Kokichi loved to bother so much. And he swallowed, tracing its every edge with his eyes, and finally wrapping his head around the word he was looking for.  
  
Numb. He felt nothing but numbness about this loss.  
  
Rolling the other way, Kokichi closed his eyes, listened to the ticking, and dozed off, aware of the images licking at the corners of his vision until he dropped out of consciousness.  
  


* * *

  
The next day, the class was somber and quietly murmured about their lost classmate. Miu was in tears. Shuichi and Kaede sat together, glancing at each other sadly. Even Himiko looked absolutely downtrodden, as much as she let on that she disliked the bot.  
  
It was all pretty disgusting, in Kokichi's opinion.  
  
"Who died?" He asked out loud, feet kicked up onto his desk. He grinned at the quiet glares he earned. There was a stunned silence before anyone decided to do something about it.  
  
Kirumi stood up and approached his desk, leaning over him menacingly. Kokichi didn't even flinch. "That's not funny. You're being very disrespectful to Kiibo." A unanimously disgruntled buzz drummed up inside the room.  
  
"I have no idea who you're talking about," Kokichi faked a yawn, waving his hand in the air. "Stop playing tricks on me. And anyways, robots can't die."  
  
"Kokichi..." Kaede started, quietly reaching out to him.  
  
Before she could say anything, Miu stood up and slammed a hand on her desk, and the room fell silent once more. "You're in denial," She insists, tears still streaking down her face. "But that doesn't mean you can just forget he existed! What crawled up your ass and died this morning? What did Kiibo ever do to you, huh?"   
  
"Who?" Kokichi tilted his head with a blank look on his face.  
  
Maki moved to stand up, and Kaito held out his arm to stop her. "Kiibo," He enunciated, "is dead. You're going to have to accept that, y'know?"  
  
Kokichi blinked. Twice. Then he shrugged. "Kiiinda sounds like you guys are the ones who haven't accepted anything, no offense! Some robot broke down and you're losing sleep over it? Get real! This is the 21st century! Technology is sooo disposable nowadays!" More outraged chatter erupted from the indignant classmates. They had never heard Kokichi utter such low blows before, and it inspired half of the class to spit words of vitriol at him while the others tried to settle them. A deep voice managed to slice through the chaos.  
  
"Let him be. He's mourning just like we are, isn't he?" Ryoma reasoned from the back of the room. "If this is how he mourns, then this is how he mourns." A couple murmurs of agreement and grumbles of acquiescence followed, and most of the room turned away to ignore the Ultimate Supreme Leader altogether.  
  
Kokichi grit his teeth. "I'm not mourning a person who never existed, idiot. Is your brain as stunted as your growth?" Of course he wasn't mourning. He wasn't sad at all! In fact, he'd been smiling the whole time, and smiling people don't mourn. Duh.  
  
"Good morning, class," The teacher walked in and cut the discussion short. "Let's take it easy today on account of the recent tragedy. Kokichi, feet off your desk, please."  
  
"Whatever."  
  


* * *

  
Kiibo didn't return, and that was just fine by Kokichi.  
  
Days went by, then weeks went by. Life moved fast and Kokichi Ouma stayed five steps ahead. He'd always had ambitions, or lied about having them, at the very least. Graduation was the last time anyone from his class had laid eyes on him. Through every reunion-- and there had been about four now-- Kokichi had always tossed the invitation. He would make the excuse that he was busy, too bogged with work to attend.  
  
Though ambition was understandable, being a workaholic wasn't really in Kokichi's DNA so his peers thought. It didn't seem too out of place, though. Perhaps, they mused among themselves, he really is off running his own evil organization.  
  
They were half right. Kokichi, although flippant and uncaring about academics outwardly, did crave a sort of power that cruising out of high school with no plans could not provide him. With such a renowned diploma, he was basically guaranteed entrance into any university of his choosing, and that was something no opportunist like himself could let fly past him.  
  
University left him no time to fuck around with has-been-friends. He hadn't seen them since he was 18, and nowadays he was pushing 23. He hadn't even seen his fellow DICE members in a little over two years. This was Kokichi's last semester, and then it was brighter horizons and a gaggle of subordinates under his boot. As it should be.  
  
He was already preparing for his new life, finding himself a place to live included. His last dwelling was unsavory, to say the least. A king needed the space to kick up his feet! Moving day came and went quickly, and he was so relieved to be done with it. Last thing to do was unpack his things and go to bed.  
  
It was tedious to do it all himself, but he managed. It's not like he was overly materialistic, so there were less boxes to unpack than a typical move might tote. Kokichi cleared through the boxes with general ease, before picking one up that seemed far too light for him to have packed it, nestled inside a larger cardboard box.  
  
Upon closer inspection, it was extremely dusty, and was one of the last that had been sitting on the top shelf of his closet. It was about the size of a shoebox, and underneath all the dust it appeared to have old, brittle tape on it, peeling so easily that a few strips fell off in his hand.  
  
It took Kokichi a moment to recognize exactly what he was looking at. When he did, he sat down, staring at the box he'd neglected so long. Kokichi didn't remember packing it, he must have thrown it in with his other things without a thought. He'd forgotten that it still remained in his possession-- almost that it even existed.  
  
The only thing he never forgot was the old classmate it represented.  
  
Kiibo had never left his mind, not once in all these years. Not while he pretended he didn't exist and not while he denied, denied, denied those invitations. Not a single day went by that the robot didn't cross his thoughts.  
  
It was the fault of this box, Kokichi theorized. Maybe he wouldn't be plagued by these memories if not for the existence of it. He ran his hand along the top, brushing off the dust, and caught his thumb under the lid.  
  
"That's right..." He murmured to himself. "I never opened this thing, did I?" He didn't remember why he hadn't just thrown it away. He probably should right now. Toss it out, keep moving on with life. But time had wound up a curiosity in him, and without any more hesitation, he lifted the lid.  
  
Inside was a stack of photos, a few pieces of neatly placed paper, an envelope addressed to Kokichi, and several crumpled up pieces of paper. It was no wonder it stayed so neat after sitting untouched for years.  
  
Kokichi's eyes naturally went to the envelope with his name on it, but after a moment, he reached for the photos first. There were about ten of them, all featuring his old classmates.  
  
The first was Angie throwing up peace signs beside Himiko and Tenko-- all behind Kiibo obviously trying to capture all 3 of them in frame clumsily. A few of them were with Miu, including a strip from a photo booth in which Miu was the only one pulling overly weird faces.  
  
There were ones where Kiibo was nowhere in frame, too. Shuichi, Rantaro and Kaede sitting together, Kaito having an animated (probably one-sided) conversation with Maki and Shuichi... Gonta holding a handful of beetles and enthusing about them to Korekiyo and Kirumi.  
  
One photo made Kokichi grin widely: It was him, laughing his ass off after taping Ryoma to the classroom wall, while Tsumugi and Shuichi worked on getting him down. Oh, he remembered that. The tennis player had fallen asleep, and it was the perfect opportunity! He looked so pissed. Kokichi was tempted to keep the photo.  
  
The next one also featured his younger self. He was standing on a stool next to Gonta, and scowling to find he still wasn't eye-level with him. "Oh, geez. This one is just embarrassing," He murmured to himself, and placed it into the box with the others. He held the last photo in his hands, staring at it for a very long time.  
  
It wasn't taken by Kiibo, obviously, as he was completely in frame. And looking rather disgruntled, for the record. Then there was Kokichi, grinning widely and prodding a finger into the robot's cheek. Who took this? Why did Kiibo bother to keep it? More importantly, why did it make Kokichi feel so strongly nostalgic just now?  
  
He gripped the photo and gazed at it for a few more seconds, before remembering there was more to see in the box. He gently placed the picture back with the others, and reached for one of the crumpled pieces of paper, unfurling it to an unfinished letter.  
  
Kiibo's handwriting was always scarily neat, and actually kind of cool looking, now that Kokichi saw it again. It had to be written with an analog clock in mind. There wasn't much to read, as the letter seemed abandoned very early on, but it was addressed to him, clear as day.  
  
 _"Dear Kokichi,_  
  
 _I cannot give you one clear explanation as to why I've decided to"_  
  
And the rest was empty paper. Bemused, Kokichi laid it out flat on his bed, and reached for another. This one was not addressed to Kokichi, but to Professor Iidabashi, the robot's creator. But, as he was already nose deep in his snooping spree, he opened it up anyway.  
  
 _"Dear Professor,_  
  
 _I hope it is not strange to receive a letter when I should probably just say this face to face with you. I find it much easier to put what I am"_ The word thinking was written, then crossed out. _"feeling when I write it down. Today, when the news about that girl was"_  
  
More white space. God damn it!  
  
"What the hell were you trying to say, Kiiboy?" He wondered aloud, and then paused to contemplate how foreign the nickname felt on his tongue. When was the last time he'd uttered it? It had been too many years.  
  
The other unfinished notes ended similarly. Some were addressed to Kokichi, others to the Professor. Kiibo failed to reach his point in every one of them, and they all seemed to end within the first few sentences. The only one that remained was the sealed envelope with his name on it. With his curiosity completely piqued, Kokichi spent no time tearing it open and folding open the letter. This one looked complete. His eyes fell over the words eagerly-- now they were getting somewhere.  
  
 _"Dear Kokichi,_  
  
 _I assume the circumstances in which you have found this letter can only mean it has been found prematurely, or I am no longer alive."_  
  
Kokichi stared at that last bit for much longer than a moment. He seemed to be staring a lot at the contents of this box. He couldn't help it, when it was full of stuff like this. It made him feel so... weirdly, sickly sentimental. He wanted to hate it, but something stopped him from resenting the feeling fully.  
  
Swallowing, effectively pushing away these thoughts, he read on.  
  
 _"I am writing under the pretense, though, that I have died, become irreparable, or otherwise disappeared. There are little other possibilities that explain how you would be reading this now._  
  
 _I suppose you must be wondering why I wrote to you, and not to all of our classmates. While I do wish our peers and my friends the best, I feel that the only matters urgent enough to leave behind in letters are for you and the professor. If the box still contains his envelope, please give it to him."_  
  
It didn't, Kokichi noticed. But that wasn't enough of a curiosity to soothe his impatience. Had Kiibo always been this slow to reach his point?  
  
 _"I digress. I have something to express to you, but I have given up trying to write it in a letter I intend to physically deliver to you. After discarding such intentions, I find it a lot easier to show my emotions. You see--"_  
  
Kokichi lingered on the next six words, wide-eyed.  
  
 _"I think I may love you."_  
  
It felt like the air had been punched right out of him. Pent and squeezing, his chest refused to move an inch, denying him the ability to exhale comfortably. An eternity ticked by, or so it seemed. "No fucking way," He spoke aloud, staring at the paper for an uncomfortable amount of time before reading on, heart in his throat.  
  
 _"I know it sounds like a joke, but I promise you it isn't. These are feelings I've been thinking about for a long time, and have been milling them over with the professor... And there is no better word I can use to describe it. Kokichi, I really like you."_ Kokichi paused, taking a breath and startling himself with how shaky it was.  
  
He read on. _"I always thought that love was supposed to go the way it does on TV, getting along perfectly, and fully understanding one another, and never being surprised. It's funny, because what we have is just the opposite... but I like it a lot more. I've come to love the unpredictability and the unknown that comes with being your friend."_ Oh, god. Kokichi sniffled. No, no, he was not going to fucking cry over an old dead robot's stupid confession. No way in hell!  
  
He rubbed his knuckles into his eyes fiercely, as if he was trying to force the tears back where they came. Fuck Kiibo. Fuck Kiibo for doing this to him. What a cruel joke. What a mean last hurrah for the robot. Kokichi almost didn't finish the letter he was so angry about it.  
  
The next line forced a bitter chuckle out of him. _"Please don't laugh,"_ It read. Christ, if only he knew. _"And please don't hate me for not delivering this. I decided to leave it here as my goodbye note. Please tell the others that I'll miss them-- You may paraphrase, LOL."_ Dammit, that actually made him laugh. He really wrote L-O-L in a letter.  
  
SO lame. Kokichi was grinning now. He'd gotten to the final paragraph, eyeing the signature the nearer he read to it. He almost didn't want the letter to be over.  
  
 _"I cannot promise you anything... but I trust Professor Iidabashi will consider what I say in his letter closely. Whatever he chooses, please don't lose hope. If I've discovered one thing about humankind, it's that hope is all you have, sometimes. Keep in touch with the others, alright? No matter how busy you are._  
  
 _See you someday,_  
 _Kiibo"_  
  
Kokichi stared at the words for a long time. He read the letter over once... Twice... He gave up after his third time and stashed the letter away in his pocket. What... the hell did he mean? What was Kokichi supposed to hope for? More importantly, why did Kiibo care whether or not he kept in touch with everyone? Most importantly... see you someday? Fucking _see you someday???_  
  
"Tsk," He picked up the box and set it under his bed, toeing it further to keep it hidden. "Thanks a lot, Kiiboy. Five years gone and you're still holding me hostage, huh?"   
  
Kokichi yawned, stretching towards the ceiling and heaving a long, drawn out sigh. He collapsed backwards onto his bed, revisiting the box's contents in his head. Every photo, every letter, every word. Especially those...  
  
I think I may love you.  
  
Kokichi swallowed thickly. Okay. Okay. One thing at a time. Let's focus on that. Kiibo loved him. Past tense. Nothing he can do about that now that he was gone... yet, it still stuck with him. Rattling around his brain like a pinball refusing to fall down the slot and melt away.  
  
He found it hard to believe, even if it was written in plain ink. He did nothing but annoy Kiibo! He prodded him, he teased him, he insulted the very thing he was! Maybe it was a prank, a lie to confuse the liar forever, but Kiibo wasn't so cruel. Kokichi rolled over, ruminating over the possibilities-- listening to his clock tick away and swallowing the oddest sense of déjà vu.  
  
Then there was the ending.  
  
See you someday, he wrote.   
  
He started a letter with "if you're reading this, I'm dead" and ended it with "see you someday". That didn't make sense! Nothing made sense. The professor's letter, his choice, having hope, keeping in touch with the others! Augh, it was too much!  
  
He shouldn't have read this so late at night. Kokichi closed his eyes and tried to find his peace.  
  


* * *

  
Hours passed, feeling more like days. Kokichi fell asleep for a little while, but his dreams jostled him awake. He rolled over to stare at the clock. Five in the morning. "Awesome," Kokichi grumbles, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress and standing up. Might as well.  
  
It didn't take long for that damned letter to seep back into his thoughts, but Kokichi gave up trying to distract himself. Instead, he grabbed his phone from the side table, and dialed a number from memory.  
  
"Hey, Shuichi. Nishishi, did I wake you up?" A tired voice crackled over the receiver, making Kokichi grin. "Sorry, not sorry! I have a question for you." Kokichi crept his hand into his pocket and wrapped his hand around the letter.  
  
"When's the next stupid reunion again?"


End file.
